*****
Jake wandered about the huge deck for a few minutes, trying to find his bearings in the dark. He was about to go see the captain, when he saw Carrington exit his cabin, pulling on his boots. At that very moment they heard grunting and a thud below the captain’s quarters. Jake took off like a flash, his bare feet slapping on the deck. Carrington pulled on his second boot with a painful tug, and vaulted over the side of the ladder half way down.
Jake became enraged when he saw a man brutally kissing his wife in the faint moonlight. He grabbed the assailant around the waist, and threw him across the deck. Paulus landed hard, but popped back up immediately, only to take the full swing of Jake’s punch right in the jaw. He staggered backwards, then pitched forward as he bore the full brunt of a one-two punch to the stomach. Jake then brought up his knee into the man’s face as he fell forward. As Carrington came upon the scene, he saw what looked like Mr. Abrams pummeling the life out of someone. He quickly ran to restrain James, for he looked as if he might kill the man. He grabbed James from behind, and threw him across the deck.
“Lay off! You’re gonna kill him!” Jake was immediately up and crouched, ready to pounce again. Carrington put up his hands. “James! I will take care of this bastard. You take care of your wife!”
Jake recovered quickly at the mention of Mara, and ran over to the figure lying in a little ball on the deck.
“Jake, oh my God, Jake!” He covered her mouth with his as he picked her up to keep her from saying his real name. “It’s James, baby,” he reminded her, talking into her mouth softly, “I am here. You are safe.” She sobbed hysterically, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck.
They heard footsteps, as some of the crew members arrived on the scene. Then they heard Carrington giving orders to his men to deal with the attacker.
Carrington turned to Jake and Mara. “Take her to the infirmary. Doctor Hathaway’s room adjoins it. I’ll meet you there as soon as I deal with him.” He jerked his head toward the prone, silent figure of the attacker. Jake nodded and half-walked, half-ran to the infirmary. The hardest part was handling the ladder into the hold while carrying Mara.
Upon arriving at the infirmary. Jake opened the unlocked door and laid Mara down carefully on the examination table, gently peeling her arms from around his neck. He then knocked loudly on the doctor’s door, barely finding it in the darkened room.
“What?” came the sleepy reply.
“I need your help. My wife was attacked!” called Jake through he closed door.
The door flew open, and out stepped a disheveled, white-haired man in a nightshirt, putting on a pair of spectacles. Doctor Hathaway tended to the crew, and also served as the ship’s veterinarian. He treated all living creatures, no matter what their ailments. He had begun his practice ministering to people, but at times his patients asked him to treat their sick animals as well. In his later years, he had taken this job on the Fleetwood, which suited him well.
He took one look at the crying woman curled up in a ball on his table, and grasped the situation immediately.
He rushed over to her, and started to gently brush the hair back from her face. “Please light every lamp in the place. Over there is the flint.” He nodded toward the corner table.
Jake did as he was told. Dr. Hathaway cooed to Mara, telling her she was safe now. As more light streamed into the room, Hathaway could better assess the damage. Her shirt was untucked in the back and peppered with little bloody marks. Upon lifting her shirt up, he could see her back was full of little cuts and splinters from the rough wood, and that her face was bruised. He’d have to pry her apart to assess the rest of her, but that could wait. “There’s a sheet under the table,” he told Jake. “Please find it and cover her.” He glanced up as he said this, and gasped. Jake was not wearing a shirt, and his crisscrossing scars shocked the doctor.
Jake looked down and quickly realized the tactical mistake of not putting on a shirt before leaving the cabin. He bent to retrieve the sheet, and put it over his wife.
Hathaway’s eyes moved from Jake’s disfigured torso to focus back on his charge.
“Mrs. Abrams. Mrs. Abrams. I know this is hard for you, but I have to ask you where else you hurt.”
Mara pulled into a tighter ball. Jake put his hands on her shoulder and face, kissing her cheek. “I love you,” he whispered. “I will always love you.”
Mara began to relax a bit under his gently stroking fingers. “Honey, please. Tell the doctor so he can care for you properly.”
“He kissed me so hard,” she finally whispered, struggling to say the words. “He hurt me.”
They jumped at the knock on the door. It opened, and Carrington stuck his head in.
One glance at Jake and he, too, stared in wonder at the scars on the young man’s skin.
The captain stepped into the room, looking from the doctor to the patient to the husband. “I think we need to talk, young man. Doctor, is she okay?”
“A few bumps, bruises, and scratches, but those will heal. The emotional damage will be harder to deal with.”
Carrington curtly nodded. “We’ll send her ladies’ maid in.” He opened the door, and motioned for Jake to exit. “After you, Mr. Abrams. After you.”
The two men arrived back at the Abrams’ cabin. Jake opened the door to find a worried Cecilia, now fully dressed, sitting in the reading chair. “Mr. Abrams!” She jumped up. Not seeing Mara, but seeing the captain instead, she panicked. “Where is Miss Elizabeth?”
Carrington eyed Jake, who silently went to his room to grab a shirt.
He turned back to the maid. “Another passenger attacked her.” Cecilia’s hand flew to her mouth in horror. “She is fine, but she needs you. She is in the infirmary with Dr. Hathaway. Please join her there.”
Without another word, Cecilia ran past the captain and straight to the infirmary.
Jake came out of the room, pulling a shirt around his shoulders. They walked back to the captain’s quarters in silence, as Jake buttoned it.
Once they arrived, Carrington closed the door. “Sit.”
Jake sat. He leaned his head back on the chair, and closed his eyes. He was bone tired, and his hands hurt like hell from beating Paulus. His wife had been attacked, and he wasn’t with her to take care of her. The emotions in him were hard to categorize. And now he was about to be interrogated.
“The man who attacked your wife is Harry Paulus, the banker.”
“What?” exclaimed Jake, his head coming off the chair. He expected the attacker to be one of the crew, or at least a commoner. “That is pretty bad behavior for a banker! I would not have believed him capable of that.”
“Who knows what kind of behavior a gentleman is capable of.” Jake didn’t miss the double meaning of the captain’s statement.
“James—if that is truly your name, for I heard your wife called you Jake—I find myself having to ask you a few questions. One is about your scars. Gentlemen rarely find themselves on the wrong end of a whip. Judging by the scars on your back, that is quite a whipping or series of whippings you must have received.”
Jake took a deep breath. This was going to be tough. “Abrams is family name.” He hoped the captain didn’t notice him leaving out the article “the” in his sentence. “Father is a brutal and cruel man. The whip was his favorite choice of punishment for me as a child. And he castigated quickly, without trial or mercy.”
He thought back to the lesson Lady Maureen taught him when he showed the queen his scars. Half-truths were sometimes necessary. He’d tell the truth as much as possible, leaving the family relationships to the captain’s own conclusions. So he stretched it a bit here: father, father-in-law. Same difference, right? He glanced at Carrington, who was watching him closely, his elbows on the chair arms, and his hands together at the fingertips.
“Father only thinks about wealth. His family means little to him. He lost the family title to his elder brother, the heir. He avenges the hand dealt to him by increasing
his wealth. He is a fine business man, well respected in the community, but behind closed doors, he is a horrible father, and a horrible man.”
Carrington waited for Jake to continue, tapping his fingers together.
“My name is James. James Jacob Abrams. Jake is a pet name that comes from my middle name. I have known Elizabeth since we were children. We grew up together, we played together, and we learned our lessons together. It is how we met. We lived around the corner from each other. I fell in love with her years ago.”
“Are you running away?”
“No. Yes…kind of.”
Carrington waited again.
Jake sighed, and stared straight into the captain’s eyes. “Life with my father became intolerable for me. The older I grew, the worse it became. And I could care less about the family fortune, and making money for the sake of making money. Our families are both at their country estates right now. We left London without saying anything; they don’t know we’re gone, and they don’t know we were married. Well, maybe they do by now.” He looked at the floor, acting ashamed.
His voice lowered to a whisper. “They wanted to marry her off to another man, and we couldn’t…that would have destroyed us. We…” His voice choked with real emotions, as he thought about how close he had come to losing Mara.
Jake stopped talking.
The captain broke the silence. “I’d say living with a man who would do that to his own son is intolerable.” He nodded, and looked toward Jake’s chest. “And watching the love of your life be given to another is just as intolerable. I guess I don’t blame you.” Carrington paused. “What about your servants. Didn’t they balk at running away?”
Jake smiled for the first time since they started the conversation. “Ellen practically raised Elizabeth. She won’t ever leave her. She is more a mother to her than her own mother is. Pierson and George are the sons of Father’s servants. Elizabeth and I grew up with them, too. We all played together. We are friends, not master and servants. They also want a better life, and America will offer them the freedom to become more than what they are now. Pierson is a journeyman blacksmith. And he’s a bloody good one, too. George is a journeyman cobbler. He can make a pair of boots that will make your feet sing. These will be useful skills in America, allowing them to rise to the middle class—something they could never do in England.”
“What are you going to do—you, who don’t want to make lots and lots of money.”
“I am a horseman. I know a lot about horses. I have ten good ones on board this ship. I plan to build a breeding farm. It is what I know; it is what I love.”
Carrington considered Jake’s words for a moment, and then stood up abruptly. “I think we are done here, Abrams. I thank you for your honesty.”
They shook hands. Jake was amazed at how easily the half-truths came. His mother was probably spinning in her Christian grave.
*****
Mara lay in their bed, sleeping soundly, when Jake returned. Hathaway had cleaned her wounds and given her a sleeping draught. Cecilia slept in the reading chair. Jake tiptoed into the bedroom and undressed. All he wanted to do was crawl into bed and put his arms around his love. The last couple of hours had been hard on them all.
He gathered Mara up in his arms and promptly fell asleep, dreaming of hanging Harry Paulus from the highest mast on the ship.
*****
Mara stirred in her sleep. She hurt all over and didn’t want to wake up. Then, in a rush, the night’s events invaded her mind, and she sat straight up in bed, screaming.
Jake immediately awoke and held her tightly to him, stroking her and whispering his love into her ear.
“You’re safe, my love. I am here. You are safe. He will never touch you again. I am here. You are safe.”
She clutched him tightly, sobbing uncontrollably. Having heard the scream, Cecilia softly opened the door to see if Mara was okay.
Jake looked over his wife’s head at the ladies’ maid. “I have her. It’s okay.” Cecilia nodded, and shut the door again.
“I am so sorry,” she sobbed.
“What do you have to be sorry about? You were the victim of a vicious attack. You have no reason to be sorry.”
“I am sorry I was foolish enough to go out by myself. I should have known better.”
“Shhh. It’s not your fault.” He gently pulled her back down on the bed, holding her close in his arms.
‘I feel so stupid.”
“Foolish, perhaps, but never stupid.”
“Jake?”
“Yes, my love.”
“Do you still love me?”
Jake closed his eyes. “You are mine,” he croaked, emotion filling his breast. “You will always be mine, and only mine. Woe to any man who thinks or acts otherwise. I will love you, no matter what, until the end of time. Never believe otherwise. Never.”
She nodded, secure in her husband’s arms.
*****
The next morning, Jake walked to the captain’s cabin once again, ensuring that Paulus would be securely locked away where he could no longer be a danger to Mara, or any other woman on board.
“My young man,” the captain assured Jake. “This ship is equipped with a sturdy brig that will keep Paulus well secured for the rest of the trip. I will personally turn him over to the constabulary once we arrive in New York. He will not be committing any more crimes on my ship!”
Jake smiled and breathed a sigh of relief. They wouldn’t have to worry about Paulus for the rest of the trip, but he’d make sure Mara no longer took dawn exercise runs by herself, just in case.
Chapter 44
A week after the kidnapping, a constable walked into Chief Perrin’s office with a package. “Here, sir. I think you need to see this.”
Perrin took the package, untied the string, and unwrapped the brown paper. He closed his eyes and let out a big breath when he saw the contents. He wrapped and tied it back up.
“Where’d it come from?”
“A bloke fishing on the bridge snagged it. Seeing the dark stains and the hole, he decided to bring it in.”
Perrin rubbed his tired eyes. This case was going to be the death of him. He had the entire peerage breathing down his neck. Even the king was asking tough questions. But at least he could corroborate the murder of the footman now.
Two hours later, he arrived at the Markham estate with the package.
Termins announced his entrance to his lord, who worked at his desk in the library.
“Send him in.”
Perrin stood ramrod straight as he handed the package to Lord Markham. Termins didn’t leave the room, and no one asked him to.
“What is this?”
“Evidence of the murder of your footman, m’lord. A fisherman pulled it out of the Thames.”
Markham untied and unwrapped the package. Just like Perrin, he closed his eyes and sighed. Except he pulled the item out.
There was Jake’s livery; once resplendent in its opulence, it was now a dark and soiled reminder of the events of last week. It was stained with blood; a hole marred its left breast, the gold braid now tarnished and cheerless. Markham put his finger through the hole. Abbot was definitely done for. No one survived a wound to the heart and the loss of that much blood.
“Is there someone besides you who can confirm this jacket belongs to Abbot?” Markham gave Perrin an odd look. “Just following procedures, m’lord.”
“Find Calvin and that young gardener who was friends with Abbot.” Termins nodded, and left on his errand.
“We are never going to find her, are we?”
“M’lord, there is always hope. But Lord Phantom is a very clever man, a man of means, and a man determined. All these things are very hard to overcome in an investigation. We can only hope he slips up, or that your daughter is able to escape.”
Perrin started fidgeting with the brim of his hat. “We have all the jewel merchants and goldsmiths in the city on the lookout for the jewels. The kidnappers have to sell them som
ewhere, and the ladies gave good descriptions of most of the pieces. We have a list of all the guests who attended the Masque last year, and are following up with each man on the list. From the letter the kidnapper wrote, we believe he was there. However, since identities were hidden for a good part of the evening, he could have been an uninvited guest and left well before the unmasking at midnight. Your daughter did that as well.” Markham sat chewing his nails.
The chief continued. “We are scouring the area around the warehouse for information. The owner of the warehouse rented it for the week, but never met the renter. All transactions occurred though missives delivered by young boys. We have all the letters. Same handwriting as the note left with Lady Maureen. It was arranged for back in the winter, so we know Lord Phantom had been planning this for quite a while.” He nodded toward the jacket. “And now we have this. But none of it helps us discover who he is, or where he has hidden your daughter.”
Termins arrived back with Calvin and Alvin.
Markham waved his hand toward the grubby jacket. “Is that Abbot’s? We just want to make sure.”
Alvin played his part brilliantly. He walked on unsteady legs over to the table, and tentatively picked up the once-green jacket. His hands trembled as he held it up and took in the amazing sight. Blimey, they did a great job! And the hole looked quite authentic. Plus, a few days in the river added a lot of dinginess to it.
The other men watched as the youth looked at the jacket. They weren’t exactly sure how to react when Alvin sank to his knees and started sobbing, pressing the jacket close to his chest. “Jake, oh my God, Jake.” He buried his face in the foul-smelling cloth, and cried like a baby.
Calvin was beside himself. Jake was like a son to him, and Alvin’s crying caused tears to now fall down his own cheeks. He went gently over to Alvin and pried the jacket from his hands, placing it back on the table. Holding him around the shoulders, Calvin helped Alvin up and guided him out of the room, boy and man crying helplessly. All Markham and Perrin could do was listen to the echoes of their grief, and become lost in their own thoughts.
Mara: A Georgian Romance Page 24